


Drastic Measures

by mutantfodder



Category: LISA (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, child abuse implications, it was late when we wrote this so it might be shit lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 16:50:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15247629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mutantfodder/pseuds/mutantfodder
Summary: As it stood, one life had to end for Lisa's freedom: Marty's, or her own.She gripped the kitchen knife in her shaky hands and slowly approached him while his back was turned.





	Drastic Measures

**Author's Note:**

> An AU fic, but unrelated to my other AU stories.
> 
> This fic was written by my friend Fourkov and edited heavily by me.

* * *

There was red. Red on Lisa’s hands, red on Lisa’s now-ruined white shirt, red on the filthy kitchen tiles, and red in what was left of her broken mind.

Lisa’s hands trembled and the knife clattered on the floor. Everything started spinning, and she quickly collapsed to the ground, convulsing. Lying next to her now-dead father, Lisa crawled across the cold dirty tiles to check on the body. Lisa’s tiny, pallid hand brushed aside Marty’s thinning hair. His eyes had glazed over and his sallow face had lost all color—she was staring into the face of a corpse. All was silent, aside from the TV, which let out a wicked cackle.

Lisa cried. Her whole head felt heavy as hot tears streamed down her face and fell onto the bloody kitchen floor. She screamed, just to scream. This man had abused her for years, pushing her ruined psyche to the point of insanity, yet all she could do was cry over his death. She was overcome with uncertainty about the future, fear at the newfound freedom that she had earned, and… Guilt? Angry at her own feelings, Lisa stabbed the hole in his chest a couple more times, just to make sure he was dead. She plunged it into the cavity and started twisting it around absently, still trying to process the weight of what she had just done.

Lisa achingly managed to get to her feet. She grabbed onto the counter, and limped up the stairs and into the bathroom. Staring into the mirror, Lisa saw many things. Before her stood the broken husk of a child, a murderer. But there were more pressing matters at hand; namely, a broad gash streaking across her face, almost like a claw mark.

Her whole face was soaked in blood—she couldn’t tell how much was hers and how much was Marty’s. She simply stared at the open wound for a moment before it occurred to her what was happening. She frantically whipped around and yanked a probably unclean towel off its hanger and attempted to clot the bleeding. She didn’t even realize she had gotten hurt; she must’ve been too engrossed in driving her knife into Marty’s chest to notice.

After cleaning off the wound as best as she could, Lisa found her only other white shirt, and began scouring the house. She crept toward Marty’s room and turned the knob, fully expecting it to be locked.

To her surprise, the door creaked open, and she tiptoed inside. She hunted for something salvageable in this dump of a room, trying her best to ignore the miasma of bile and alcohol which permeated the room. She yanked open a drawer beside his bed, and noticed a thick wad of dull green paper. _Money._

Lisa knew this bizarre paper could get her food and clothes, so she quickly grabbed it with her little hand, and tightened her grip on the kitchen knife with the other. Slowly, she meandered through the house, circling it one more time, trying to ignore the body and the slowly-growing pool of blood it was lying in.

Finally, Lisa flung open the front door and ran. She didn’t even bother to shut it. She ran and she ran and she ran. Broken glass dug into her bare feet as they slammed against the still-warm pavement, but Lisa didn’t stop for even a second. Lisa had only one destination in mind, and there was no way in hell anything was going to stop her from reaching it.

After a few minutes of sprinting down the sidewalk, Lisa could make out a piss-yellow porch light in the distance, flickering and with a cloud of moths lazily darting around it. To her, it may as well have been the light of Heaven’s gates. Since the light was on, it meant that Bernard’s parents were watching TV, and if they were watching TV, then Bernard was probably still awake.

Lisa scaled over the back fence, which took more attempts than she was willing to admit, sprinted to a cloudy window, and lightly tapped her fingers on it. After a brief moment, the window shot up and a scrawny, blonde boy boldly stuck his head out. He gasped at the sight of Lisa’s wounds.

“L...Lisa! Your face, It…” Bernard stammered. His voice trailed off as he noticed the bloodied knife in her hand. A range of expressions came over his face. “What—”

“H-he’s dead. Marty’s dead.” Lisa panted. Saying his name felt like spitting out bile.

“I.. Okay, okay. You’ll… You’ll be alright.” Bernard said, “Just… Wait here, okay? Hold on.” Lisa looked on in uncertainty, but said nothing. He quickly darted back into his room, and she was left waiting there in the darkness with nothing but her own thoughts.

She bit her lip as she thought about the events of tonight. She was still in shock that she had done that; she had been thinking about doing it for so long that it almost didn’t seem like she did it for real. What would happen to her if someone found out? What would she even say? Lisa. shuddered.

After the longest three minutes of her life, Bernard reemerged with a leather bag slung over his shoulder. Bernard tapped Lisa’s shoulder, and she nodded back in affirmation. She gestured to the bag, and when he opened it for her, she carefully slid the knife in. Without another word, they ran off into the inky darkness of the night.

Streetlights flickered, crickets bayed, and the young couple ran. They sprinted down the streets hand in hand in silence for what felt like an eternity. Eventually, the streets faded into wilderness, and a set of tracks ran alongside the path. A rickety old station came unto the horizon. A buzzing light illuminated an old man reading a book, who looked up at them for a moment before returning to his novel.

Bernard motioned to the money that Lisa was holding, and she started to back away. She trusted him, but… This was her escape fund. If he took this...

“Lisa. If you want to escape, we need that money you have. We can go away, just you and me.” Lisa’s grip loosened around the wad of cash, but a steely look remained on her face. “But... you hafta _trust_ me, Lisa. I need you to cooperate if you wanna get anywhere.”

She pondered her choices for a bit, and hesitantly handed him the green paper. Bernard smiled safely and walked up to the old man, and started talking to him. She couldn’t focus on what he was saying, since her head pounded in her ears, but she watched onward helplessly as he handed an ample portion of the money to him. She shifted her weight from one foot to another as she waited for him to come back, and prayed to whatever God was willing to listen to her that she made the right choice.

Eventually Bernard returned with two white slips. He handed one to Lisa, and sat next to her on the old station bench. Bernard leaned in next to her and whispered, “These slips will let us go on the train, and we’ll be able to escape from everything.”

Lisa tilted her head and gave him a nervous look.  
“In half an hour. Just half an hour,” Bernard said calmly. His voice was reassuring to her. She didn’t fully understand what was happening, but hearing Berny say that made her feel like it was going to be okay.

Lisa nodded, and silently eyed her surroundings. There was nothing of interest, aside from the bugs that flew around the lights in the muggy night air. She felt her eyes close, and fell into a restless sleep.

Eventually a giant machine jolted the two awake. The train let out a grand hissing noise as it rolled into the station and slowed to a halt. They made their way to its entrance, and Bernard showed the two tickets to the man in front. He nodded and let them pass. The pair ambled to the very back seat. Lisa took the window seat, and Bernard slid in next to her. After her tired eyes read over the slip a few times, she gently tugged on Bernard’s shirt.

“Is... is this where we’re going?”

Bernard pointed at the destination, and spoke almost as quietly as she did.

“Yeah. It’s not too far from Olathe, Lis'. I think you’ll like it there.” Bernard felt something press onto his shoulder, and saw a mess of black hair nestled onto him. Lisa had finally given in to the exhaustion, and had finally started to sleep. Bernard stared out the window, and saw a bit of the sun peek over the trees. It was over. They were free.

**Author's Note:**

> Will I ever stop writing horrifically self-indulgent Lisa/Buzzo fics?
> 
> Eh, probably not.


End file.
